


Music Worth Listening To

by poets



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Implied Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, pining!victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:02:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poets/pseuds/poets
Summary: Victor remembers him in the sunshine, one day when it was warm enough where they didn’t have to bundle up to sit outside in the schoolyard. He has black hair that frames his face and sticks up in different places. He has blue-framed glasses that slid down his nose when he looks down. The boy’s nose is red and he sniffles against the cold. He’s a year younger than Victor. His name is Yuuri Katsuki.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i havent written a fic in a really long time
> 
> i really wanted to write something for this fandom bc i love yoi so so much so i hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> i spent a lot of time on this and i'm hoping its good
> 
> comments, kudos & feedback are always appreciated!!!!!

Victor remembers him in the sunshine, one day when it was warm enough where they didn’t have to bundle up to sit outside in the schoolyard. He has black hair that frames his face and sticks up in different places. He has blue-framed glasses that slid down his nose when he looks down. The boy’s nose is red and he sniffles against the cold. He’s a year younger than Victor. His name is Yuuri Katsuki.

 

The name had slid off his tongue easily, rolled with his accent. He thinks back fondly, watching Yuuri underneath the large tree in the yard, sitting on a picnic bench while he read one of the many books Victor had seen him with. The next day, he had gone to the library and picked out the same one. He had liked it, though he didn’t have the same fondness for reading that Yuuri did. His attention span wasn’t great and he had trouble remembering important parts of stories.

 

He remembers Yuuri though. He remembers the sunlight in his hair and the oversized sweatshirts he wore, the ones he still wears. He remembers the smell of library books and sunny winter days and a beautiful boy.

 

                                                                                            --------------------

 

The first time Victor saw Yuuri outside of school was at Lilia’s studio. He was sixteen years old. Yakov had sent him to practice on his flow and incorporating some of his dance skills into his program. As he walked in he spotted Yuuri walking into one of the rooms by himself, a duffle bag held over one shoulder. Victor crept over to the door and peered through the window at the other boy. He was stretching at the bar, concentration set in his features. Victor watched him pad over to his bag and pull his phone out. The phone case was blue and covered in poodles that reminded Victor of Makkachin.  Yuuri hooked it up to the speaker in the corner and walked back to the center of the floor, settling into a starting position. His gaze was downcast, arms at his sides. Victor noticed his fingers twitching in anticipation, and as the music, muffled for Victor because of the door, began to play, Yuuri lifted his head towards the ceiling, his features slipping into one of a far away longing. He stretched his arms over his head, one hand gripping the wrist extended high towards the heavens. He pulled them downward almost reluctantly, tucking them into his chest. The slow, sad music followed Yuuri as he spun towards the back of the room, facing the mirrors and held out a hand, as if begging his own reflection to take it. When it didn’t, he began grasping at the air, desperately, for what felt like calling for a lost love to come back to him. Victor held his breath, eyes wide as the other boy moved. The music picked up speed and Yuuri was moving across the floor, his body bending and twisting each way. As the song drew to a close, Yuuri moved back towards the middle, spinning slowly, before wrapping his arms around himself and sinking to his knees.

 

Victor let out the air he had been holding, his shoulders slumping. His hands covered his mouth as he stared at the boy. He flung the door open before he could think too hard. “That was amazing!” Victor cried, running into the room, stopping a few feet away from Yuuri. The black-haired boy scrambled to his feet quickly, his cheeks and ears burning red. “U-um, I’m sorry, I didn’t know if anyone else had this room! I’m sorry, I’ll leave!” Yuuri hurried over to his bag and started packing his jacket into it. “No!” Yuuri jumped at the volume of Victor’s voice. “No! No it’s okay, I didn’t have this room. I just...I saw you come in here and I recognized you and I wanted to watch…You’re amazing.” Yuuri stared at him with wide eyes, the pink in his cheeks darkening.Victor looked away nervously, rubbing his arms. “Thank you…” Yuuri whispered, and Victor’s gaze snapped back to the boy in front of him. “I’m Victor! Are you training under Lilia?” Yuuri nodded slowly, “Yeah...yes, I um, I’m one of her dancers.” Victor smiled at him, again. It was a softer smile, more reserved. “You’re amazing,” he breathes.

 

                                                                                                          --------------------

 

It takes months for him to identify what he felt for Yuuri. It wasn’t that he denied it at all, no, of course not. He just wasn’t sure. It was a feeling he had never felt before. One that sat, full and heavy in his chest. It caused arguments between him and his heart some days when it threatened to burst out of his chest when Yuuri smiled at him, his big, beautiful brown eyes crinkling and his smile dazzling. He felt it when they sat outside the dance studio together, ignoring the cold and eating strawberries Yuuri’s mother had given him. He remembers the day Yuuri had come to watch him practice, while Yakov was lecturing him about stepping out of the triple salchow he had been working on. Remembers the light filtering through the windows, hitting Yuuri’s tan skin and making him glow. Victor remembers his chest tightening and the oxygen being sucked out of the room when Yuuri smiled and waved at him.

 

He had felt like collapsing when Yuuri stepped out onto the ice after Yakov had left Victor to his own devices for the rest of the day. The black-haired boy had skated over to him, smiling shyly the whole way. “I’m not as good as you, but. I’d like to skate with you…if that’s okay.” Victor had grabbed both of Yuuri’s hands, eyes shining and shaking with excitement. “Of course! You’re amazing, no matter what you do! It’d be an honor to skate with you.” Victor tugged him out to the center of the ice and they danced circles around each other for hours, the cold of the rink reddening their cheeks, ears, and noses.

 

Yuuri’s warmth begins to feel more familiar, better, than the way the ice feels when his blades scrape across the surface. It’s dangerous. It’s what Victor thinks the first time Yuuri hugs him. He runs at Victor, down the hallway. It feels miles long as black hair fans out behind him, glasses skewed slightly, and then, then, then then then, the warm body colliding with his. Victor dazedly wraps his arms around Yuuri’s neck, burying his face in his soft, citrus smelling hair. He breathes him in, oxygen be damned this is all he needs. All he feels, all he is is the warmth of Yuuri’s body, the smell of _him._ Victor feels on fire, in the best way. He smiles against Yuuri’s head and the shorter boy breathes into Victor’s neck. Victor can feel his lips against him, and he wants time to stop so he never has to let this boy go. This boy who he is so helplessly, uselessly, stupidly in love with. For once Victor isn’t so smart, and he takes pride in that. Takes pride in the imperfection of his young love, his childish crush. The way his heart hums happily when Yuuri brushes against him, the way his breath hitches when Yuuri says his name. The way his brain short circuits when Yuuri smiles at him. Hugging has him on overdrive, his entire body thrumming with thoughts of Yuuri, _Yuuri Yuuri Yuuri YuuriYuuriYuuriYuuri._ It’s a beautiful, gentle thing and he allows it to blossom. Victor allows this love to grow, to fill him completely and he pours himself and his love into his senior debut.

 

Yuuri comes to see him compete, and Victor feels waves of anxiety flood over him when he sees him there, standing next to Lilia and Yakov, and little Yuri Plisetsky. Victor hands him his red and white Team Russia jacket to hold onto. Yuuri slips it on and zips it up to his chin, smiling shyly at Victor. Victor’s eyes widened and he stepped forward, sweeping Yuuri into his arms and hugging him around his neck. Yuuri’s arms wrapped around Victor’s waist, holding him close and smiling into his neck. “You’ll do great, Vitya.” Victor felt tears well in his eyes and he leaned back, bumping his forehead against Yuuri’s. “With you here, of course I will.” He pressed a quick kiss to Yuuri’s cheek as the announcers called his name. Victor saw the red blooming in Yuuri’s face as he stepped away and onto the ice.

 

Victor took his starting position, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. As music filled the arena, everything bled away and Victor thought of Yuuri.

 

Victor exited the rink to the sound of roaring applause. The sound was overwhelming, too loud, too much. He felt shaky and exhausted, but proud. Victor looked up at the sound of someone calling his name, and saw Yuuri running towards him. A tired grin worked its way onto his face, and he let out a yelp of surprise when Yuuri lifted him, spinning him excitedly. “You were amazing! That was amazing, Victor!” The silver-haired boy buried his face in Yuuri’s hair, breathing him in. He gripped the back of Yuuri’s neck and allowed himself to be carried to the kiss and cry, where Yuuri set him down so he could go sit next to Yakov and Lilia. When the scores came in, they say he has won his first competition in the senior division. He stands on the podium, smiling until his cheeks hurt and gripping tightly to the gold medal. That’s when he sees them. His parents are standing together by the rink exit. Their faces are carefully blank, but Victor knows this now as a good thing. They don’t look disappointed, and that’s the best Victor can ask for. His father gives him a curt nod and Victor nods back, relief flooding his body. As he steps off the ice, exhaustion finally takes over and Yuuri moves forward, letting Victor lean into him.

 

They make their way to the locker room and Victor sits on one of the benches to unlace his skates. Yuuri stands against the door chewing on his lip and twisting the bottom of Victor’s jacket in his fingers. Victor can’t help the overwhelming satisfaction and excitement, something close to possessiveness watching Yuuri stand there wearing _his_ jacket. It was slightly baggy on him and the sleeves reached down past his fingers. Victor stood up and padded over to the younger boy in just his socks. He reached out and adjusted the color of the jacket, smiling at Yuuri the whole time. They were pressed close together and suddenly the locker room felt a lot smaller than before. Yuuri breathed out shakily, his chocolate brown eyes drifting down to Victor’s lips. Victor ran two fingers along Yuuri’s jaw, his heart hammering in his chest the whole time. Suddenly, the door banged against Yuuri’s back and they both jumped apart as someone else burst into the room and headed over to their locker. Yuuri looked everywhere else besides Victor and Victor quickly got his shoes on and grabbed his gym bag. “Come on, Yuuri. Yakov’s waiting outside.” Yuuri nodded and hurried out of the room.

 

Victor never thought twice about loving Yuuri. It came to him as naturally as breathing, he never denied himself the ability and pleasure of loving such a beautiful person. Knowing, of course, it was possible Yuuri didn’t feel the same way, may not like boys, may not like Victor. But Victor had told himself, stubbornly, that if Yuuri did not love him in that way, that Victor would learn to love him in ways that didn’t tell him every second he was next to Yuuri to tell him how beautiful he was and how much Victor wanted to kiss him breathless. Of course Victor already loved him in ways that weren’t necessarily romantic, but they coupled wonderfully with the fluttering in his chest when Yuuri’s eyelashes fluttered over his cheekbones. Coupled wonderfully with the hitch in his breath at Yuuri’s shy smile, wonderfully next to Yuuri’s arms wrapped around Victor’s waist and spinning him excitedly whenever Victor did something particularly spectacular. Or the way Victor would cup Yuuri’s face and tell him how wonderful he was, and how he would tuck the smile and blush Yuuri gave him in return in his memories, save it for when he closed his eyes and would see Yuuri’s face behind his eyelids.  

                                                                                                            --------------------

Victor was seventeen when he caught Yuuri staring at him. Was seventeen when he smiled and heard Yuuri’s breathing stutter and a soft pink tinge his cheeks and ears. Was seventeen when they laid in Yuuri’s bed watching vines when Yuuri twirled a strand of Victor’s long, silver hair in his fingers unconsciously. His eyes locked on the video and Victor’s eyes locked on him. Victor reached out to touch Yuuri’s lips with his thumb when Yuuri laughed quietly at one of the videos. Victor remembers the way Yuuri flushes red and looks at him, flustered, but not pulling away. Instead, he opens his mouth slightly, staring at Victor through his dark eyelashes with wide brown eyes as Victor sinks his thumb further into his mouth. The slide of Yuuri’s lips against Victor’s skin sparks a burning feeling deep in his gut, and when Yuuri pulls away, smirking quietly to himself, Victor has to excuse himself to the bathroom to breathe and make sure he isn’t blushing too much.  

 

                                                                                                             -------------------

 

On December 24th, Victor and Yuuri are sat in Victor’s bedroom. It’s an hour before midnight and Yuuri’s sat on his floor, shuffling through Victor’s extensive CD collection. The radio is on in the corner with some American pop song playing through the speakers softly. It’s an hour before Victor’s 18th birthday, and Yuuri had just turned freshly 17 a little over a month before. Finally, Yuuri picks out a CD from a band Victor knows little about, and only bought the CD because he knew about three songs off of it. Yuuri slots it into the player and the first notes drift out, a low crooning that has Victor swaying gently in his seat, not looking up from his phone. Yuuri waltz over to him and takes Victor’s phone from his hands. Victor shoots him a questioning look and Yuuri just grabs his hands, pulling him up and placing his hands on Victor’s waist. Victor slides his arms easily around Yuuri’s neck. “What’re we doing?” He asks quietly, leaning forward so he can press his face into Yuuri’s neck. “Dance with me?” Yuuri’s voice is soft, hesitant and Victor nods and sighs into his neck. He can feel Yuuri turn his head and smile against Victor’s jaw. They move slowly across Victor’s large bedroom, pressed close together. The dim light of Victor’s desk lamp washes over them as they bump against the window closest to his desk. Victor pulls his head back and grins at Yuuri, leaning his forehead against the shorter boy’s. Yuuri tucks some of Victor’s hair behind his ear.

 

In the light, Yuuri is cast in shadows and warm yellow light. Victor studies his features carefully, the subtle upturn of his mouth and the crinkle of his eyes. The brown in them looks darker in this light, though he can still see them sparkle when Yuuri looks at him. They sparkle only for him in that moment, and he has the overwhelming urge to run his thumb along Yuuri’s cheekbone, pressing gently against his skin. Yuuri closes his eyes and leans into Victor’s touch. Across the room, Yuuri’s phone dings with a reminder. When he crosses to check it, it reads ‘Vitya’s Birthday, December 25th.’ The clock on his phone reading 00:00. Yuuri turns to Victor, reaching out towards him to pull him into another hug. “Happy birthday, Viten’ka.” Victor wants to kiss him.

 

So. He does. Well, not immediately, but he does.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor breathes into the darkness. It’s a whisper, almost like a prayer that hung heavy between them. They’re sat on Victor’s fairly large bed, their knees touching as they stare at each other. Victor can make out Yuuri’s eyes, wide and nervous. Pale moonlight washing over his skin. He looks softer like this, Victor reaches out to brush a strand of hair off Yuuri’s forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Victor hears the hitch in the other boy’s breath and he shuffles closer, Yuuri opening his legs so Victor could crawl into his space. Victor sits on his knees, their faces inches apart, and chews on his lip. He gazes shyly at Yuuri through his lashes, and Yuuri stares back. “Victor,” Yuuri whispers back softly, their lips only centimeters apart now. Victor leans in, until he can feel the static between them, their lips barely touching. Yuuri’s gaze shifts down to Victor’s lips and back up. Victor’s eyes slip closed, and he presses their lips together softly. Almost immediately, Yuuri responds, kissing him back just as gently. Yuuri’s hands rest on Victor’s hips, and Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s neck. They pull apart for a moment to breathe, their foreheads touching as they smile, panting into each other’s spaces. It’s Yuuri who leans in this time, kissing Victor breathless. Victor grasps Yuuri’s shoulders and leans back onto his pillows, pulling Yuuri on top of him. He feels the cool press of Yuuri’s fingers just under his shirt, skitting along his hips and up his belly. Victor tangles his fingers in Yuuri’s dark, soft hair and deepens the kiss. Yuuri gasps against Victor’s lips and leans his full weight onto Victor, hands running up the boy underneath him.

 

Their legs tangle together and Victor finds himself rolling on top of Yuuri, straddling his hips. He takes a moment to properly look at the boy he had been kissing seconds before. In the dark, Victor could see Yuuri’s hair, sticking up in all directions and pushed out of his face, his glasses long abandoned on the nightstand. Victor places a tentative hand on Yuuri’s chest, and runs his fingers down the other boy’s stomach. He feels the soft lovehandles on Yuuri’s hips and squeezes them gently, eliciting a whine from below him. Victor grins, wide and genuine and happy. Yuuri curls a hand in Victor’s shirt and pulls him down into a soft kiss, his hands coming up to cup Victor’s face. Victor sighs into the kiss and rolls off Yuuri, breaking it for a moment. He turns over onto his side and slots their mouths together again, stroking his thumb across Yuuri’s soft cheek.

 

“So...what does this mean?” Yuuri’s voice is quiet next to Victor’s ear.

 

“What do you want it to mean?”

 

“I like you…” Victor turns to look at Yuuri. He’s biting his lip, eyes closed. Victor lifts a hand and turns Yuuri’s face back towards him. “I like you too, you know. If the kissing didn’t tell you that.” Even in the dark, Yuuri’s smile is blinding.

 

The next morning, Victor wakes up with sunlight filtering through his windows and black hair tickling his nose. He looks down at a sleeping Yuuri Katsuki. The black-haired boy’s mouth is open and he’s snoring softly. One of his arms is draped over Victor’s stomach and his shirt rides up enough for Victor to see a strip of pale skin. His hair is a wild mess and he’s hogging the blankets.  He’s _fucking_ beautiful. Victor has to suppress the urge to laugh maniacally and jump around his room in excitement. _Yuuri likes him back_.

 

This, of course, is ruined when his mother decides to bang on his door loudly and walk in without him answering.

 

Yuuri sits bolt upright, his hair sticking straight up and Victor feels a wave of panic sweep over him. His mother’s eyes narrow and her lips purse. She stares straight at Yuuri, and then at Victor. Yuuri’s lips are swollen and red and Victor imagines his own look the same.

 

He wants to die. He wants God to strike him down that very moment, because she _knows_. There’s no way she doesn’t. And there’s no way she’s going to keep this from his father.

 

Victor nudges Yuuri, who quickly shoves his shoes on and grabs his backpack, looking back at Victor with fear in his eyes.

 

                                                                                                    --------------------

 

“You make sure that boy never comes back here.” Victor’s lip quivers, his father backs him against the door of the kitchen while his mother sat at the table, _watching_ . “You’ve been running around pretending like you love _him,_ pretending like we don’t know. Something has to be done, Victor.” His father grabbed his hair, swung him back towards the kitchen table and pressed him down onto his knees on the floor. “No son of mine will fuck other boys, no son of mine will love another boy.” Victor hissed, lashing out at his father’s hands gripping his hair. “Then I guess I’m not your _fucking_ son!” He howled in pain as his father yanked harshly on his ponytail. Victor could feel the burning sensation as his father’s grip tightened and blinked away tears. His mother sat quietly, a pair of scissors sitting on the wood in front of her. “We have to teach you a lesson, _Vitya,_ otherwise how will you ever learn?” Victor heard rustling above him and when he looked up he saw his mother leaning over him holding the scissors. “No...no, stop, N-”

 

The slice of metal through hair cut him off. The pressure above him lessoned and he slumped down. Silver hair floated down to rest on the tile next to him, and he felt the itch of it against his neck. His head felt lighter, and he pressed his forehead to the kitchen floor, shaking violently. “I thought you were smarter than this.” The kitchen door slammed shut behind his parents. Victor sat up, staring down at the mess of hair in front of him. He gathered up clumps of it, clutching it to his chest. Tears that had been burning in the backs of his eyes finally escaped, and a loud, harsh sob worked its way out of his throat. Victor buried his face in his hands and cried into the hair he was still holding.

 

Once the tears refused to keep falling and his body was too tired to cry more, Victor shakily got to his feet and began sweeping up the hair, ignoring the choppy strands of hair falling in his eyes. When he was done, he quietly crept up the stairs to his room, and the bathroom attached. Bypassing the mirror in his room, he flicked the light on in the bathroom and looked in the mirror under the bright light. Victor’s chest tightened immediately, and he reached up to feel the short locks. His hands shook and he choked down another sob. It looked _horrible._ The cut was uneven, and the longest part fell over his eye. Victor pushed it away and shut the light off. He didn’t want to tell anyone, but it was harder to stay here, to stay where they could control him. He needed to _get out_. Victor grabbed his phone off his nightstand and stuffed a change of clothes into his skating bag.

 

Victor wrapped his jacket tighter around himself when he stepped out of the house, the cold shocking him. He swung his bag over his shoulder and ran, muscle memory taking him to where he needed to go. Victor slowed down when he saw the house and a promising light on in one of the upstairs windows. He pulled out his phone and opened the most recent message, typing a new one quickly. _Come outside_ , it read. Victor stood waiting, shivering on the porch. The door swung open suddenly, startling him. He tugged the beanie on his head down further. “What are you doing here?! It’s nearly one in the morning,” Yuuri hissed. Victor looked at him, smiling weakly. “Can I come in?” His voice shook slightly, and Yuuri’s eyes softened when he heard him. “Of course,” Victor allowed himself to be pulled into the warmth of the house and followed Yuuri up to his bedroom. “I um...I just needed to get away.” He spoke quietly, not wanting to cry again. “What happened?” Yuuri whispered, stepping closer. Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s neck and buried his face into the skin there, his eyes burning. “Victor?” Victor stepped back away from Yuuri and looked away from him. He reached up and pulled the beanie off his head, the short silver hair falling in his face. Victor squeezed his eyes shut when he heard Yuuri gasp, willing himself to not cry. “I-it looks like shit I just...I need it _fixed._ ”

 

The first sob is like thunder. It _hurts_ , it rips through his chest and up into his throat. It spills like rain out of his mouth and then he’s pulled flush against something solid. Arms wrap themselves around his waist, and he clutches at Yuuri’s sweater desperately. Yuuri backs them up slowly until they fall onto his bed. Victor shakes against him, crying and gasping, needing to _breathe._ And he had held onto this, held is close to his chest until he got here, until he got somewhere where someone cared, would hold onto him. Didn’t _care_ what his hair looked like or if he kissed boys and liked it or not. Victor squeezes his eyes shut, holding onto Yuuri as tight as he can. Distantly he can hear Yuuri whispering to him, feel his fingers in his _short_ hair, their legs tangled together.

 

Eventually, he feels his chest loosen. He feels his lungs start to work again, and he sucks in a large, heaving breath and opens his eyes halfway. He rubs his face against the fabric of Yuuri’s sweater. It’s soft, he notes, and breathes in the scent of Yuuri. It surrounds him, wraps him up tightly like a shock blanket. “Victor?” Yuuri’s voice is close to his ear, and Victor can feel the movement of Yuuri’s lips against his skin. He tilts his head up slightly and sniffles. _Attractive_ , he thinks. “I’m sorry…” he whispers, instead; tries to move off of the other boy only to be held tighter. Yuuri pushes a hand up under Victor’s sweatshirt and rubs against his skin. Victor closes his eyes and brings a hand up to wipe his tears away. “Don’t apologize, Viten’ka. What happened?” Victor wishes he could disappear; wishes he didn’t do what he did and bring this onto Yuuri.

 

“My p-parents,” he hiccups and feels a wave of frustration at how he can’t even speak properly. “What did they do?” Yuuri’s fingers run through Victor’s hair and he thinks Yuuri already knows. “The kiss. They didn’t like it.” He pushes himself up, straddling Yuuri’s lap and looks down. He pushes his hands against his eyes and whimpers. “I’m sorry for coming here…I-you shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.” He tries to get up again, but Yuuri’s hands on his hips still him. Yuuri sits up and sweeps Victor into his arms again. Victor tucks himself against Yuuri, buries his face in his neck and doesn’t try to fight. “Don’t apologize, don’t ever apologize, Vitya. I’ll fix your hair for you, okay?” Victor nods and loops his arms around Yuuri’s neck. He hiccups again and flushes red with embarrassment. Yuuri twists a strand of his hair around his finger and kisses his neck gently. “Come on,” Victor allows himself to be pulled off the bed and follows Yuuri downstairs into the kitchen area of the inn.

 

He sits on a stool that Yuuri drags in and closes his eyes when he feels Yuuri’s lips press against his forehead gently. Careful fingers card through his hair, ruffling it. He hears Yuuri open the scissors, the slide of metal against metal making him jump. Yuuri kisses the side of his head and Victor lets out a breath. Yuuri works slow, and by the end Victor can look in the mirror without hating what he sees.

 

                                                                                                          --------------------

 

Morning comes, and Victor wakes up to several calls from his parents and voicemails screaming at him to “get his ass home.” Victor calls Yakov and tells him where he is, and that he’ll be late, considering he’s halfway across town. He calls his father back, and when he doesn’t answer he leaves him a voicemail telling him he’s at practice and that he’ll be home late.

 

He says goodbye to Yuuri and kisses him as the other boy is waking up slowly. He gets dressed and runs to the rink, the burn of the winter air and physical exertion grounding him. He skates until he can barely stand, throwing himself into what he knows he can do best. By the end, his head feels clearer and when he unlaces his skates, he feels like he can breathe again.

 

Victor avoids going home until it’s late enough that his parents will start to get angry. He spends the entire night texting Yuuri, who sends him funny videos and memes that Phichit send him to keep Victor occupied. He doesn’t speak to his parents unless it’s necessary, and that’s okay. The silence feels better than what would be on the other side.

 

                                                                                                                    --------------------

 

Victor’s nineteen when he finally is able to move out. He stays at Yuuri’s house until he’s able to move into the apartment he rented that’s close to the rink. Any money he wins over the years goes into furniture, food, and rent. He cuts off contact from his parents, and kisses Yuuri in the streets. It’s good. It’s really, _really_ good, and when his heat stops working in the middle of a snowstorm he doesn’t complain. Instead, he huddles closer to Yuuri under the sheets in his room, in his apartment, and soaks up his _boyfriend’s_ warmth.

 

                                                                                                                       --------------------

 

Victor is nineteen when he tells Yuuri Katsuki he loves him. They’re standing outside a gas station, drinking really shitty coffee while Yuuri replies to a text from Phichit before they walk back to Yuuri’s home. Victor’s holding Yuuri’s cup because Yuuri’s bad at replying to texts with only one hand. The cold is turning Yuuri’s ears, nose, and cheeks red. His scarf is pulled up to his mouth and his black cat-ear beanie is sliding off his head.

 

Victor’s stomach does a flip when Yuuri laughs at something Phichit said. Yuuri replies quickly and puts his phone away. He turns and smiles at Victor, who’s heart thunders in his chest. “You ready to go, Vitya?” He takes his cup back and stands on his toes to kiss Victor’s nose.

 

“I love you,” Victor blurts out before he can stop himself. Yuuri freezes and looks up at him. Victor slaps a hand over his own mouth. Yuuri’s face turns redder, and Victor assumes it isn’t from the cold. The boy who he just confessed, very loudly, his love to, smiles shyly and looks at him from under his long, dark lashes. “You do?” His voice is soft, and Victor nods quickly. Yuuri steps closer and pulls Victor down gently and kisses him, smiling against his lips. Yuuri pulls away, just enough so that their noses bump against each other’s and Victor can feel Yuuri’s breath against his lips. He smells like coffee. “I love you too.”

 

Victor proceeds to embarrass Yuuri, lifting him off the ground and hugging him tight, spinning him around like Yuuri once did to him. Both their coffees are knocked out of their hands and Yuuri yells, wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck. Victor sets him down and kisses him, his hands cupping Yuuri’s jaw and pulling him as close as possible.

 

He thinks, he loves him. _He loves him_. He loves him so much it hurts.

                                                                                                                     --------------------

 

Victor remembers Yuuri Katsuki when he is twenty years old. He remembers waking up early to get to the skating rink. He remembers Yuuri and his alarms both blaring, and Yuuri nearly smacking him in the face as he rolls over to grab his phone. He remembers watching Yuuri sit up in bed, yawning and running a hand through his horrible bed-head. He remembers kissing him before they brushed their teeth, and then in the shower where they pressed close and kissed while they grinded against each other. Victor remembers kissing Yuuri while he made breakfast, then when they both left to their respective workplaces. Yuuri to the dance studio, Victor to the rink.

 

Victor remembers being twenty-one when he dedicates his Grand Prix Final winning program to Yuuri Katsuki. He remembers his ending pose, one hand reaching towards the where Yuuri’s standing with Yakov. He remembers Yuuri’s beautiful brown eyes shining with tears, and he remembers kissing him, bending him backwards with a hand on Yuuri’s back to support him.

 

Victor is twenty one when he loops his gold medal around Yuuri Katsuki’s neck, and then gets down on one knee outside their hotel. Victor is twenty one when Yuuri Katsuki cries into his hands and nods, his voice shaking when he says “Yes” and it is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. Victor Nikiforov is twenty one when he kisses Yuuri Katsuki the whole way up to their hotel room. Yuuri Katsuki is twenty when Victor Nikiforov slides a gold ring onto his finger. He’s twenty when Victor tells him that he’s the best gold medal Victor could ever ask for.

  
Victor Nikiforov was sixteen when he met Yuuri Katsuki. Victor Nikiforov is twenty two when he marries him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading this!!! i hope you liked it
> 
> again comments & feedback are so appreciated!! i wanna possibly write more for this fandom but idk yet!! let me know if u think i should?? thank u again!!!!
> 
> you can find me over at vvctornikiforov.tumblr.com !! come yell w/ me about yoi it'll be fun


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